


Don We Now Our Gay Apparel

by an_ardent_rain



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: Gen, Ugly Holiday Sweaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 19:49:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/601438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/an_ardent_rain/pseuds/an_ardent_rain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's for you, Jerry," April says, deadpan, patting him on the arm.  "You win.  Your sweater was the ugliest of all."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don We Now Our Gay Apparel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mimssio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mimssio/gifts).



> Title comes from the carol "Deck the Halls"
> 
> I tried to hit a few of the likes you mentioned:  
> -characterization/character voice (definitely over plot as the plot of this is "jerry wins an ugly sweater contest" essentially)  
> -canon-compliant relationships  
> -Jean-Ralphio's poofy hair
> 
> I'm sorry that I couldn't fit in poetic prose, but as I was writing I found that I couldn't really reconcile that with the tone I wanted, i.e. goofy humor, so I erred in favor of which I felt I could do better
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this! It was very fun to write.

April comes into her office unannounced and Ann looks up, surprised, from where she's working at her desk. “Here,” she says, without fanfare. Ann's lips thin out and one brow lifts up. April pulls out something about the size of an index card from the pocket of her hoodie and holds it out toward Ann, over her desk.  Ann stares first at the paper, and then up at April; she doesn't say anything for a long moment, but then April rolls her eyes and sighs and thrusts it forward.  “Take it,” she says, pushing her hair behind one ear.  “God.”

“Um. Okay,” Ann says, putting on a weak smile. April flicks her wrist forward, then extends her arm out straight. Ann takes the card. She's a little reluctant, maybe, but more than anything else she's curious.  April’s being mostly civil, which in itself is unexpected - she might as well find out _why_.  “Thanks.”  Her smile starts to melt off the longer she looks at April.  “I guess.”

April crosses her arms and doesn’t meet Ann’s eyes.  She looks so young, the black hoodie she’s wearing too big for her, sleeves covering her arms all the way past her wrists. She's wearing a blouse visible under the slouchy neck, blue with white polka dots. She's wearing a necklace, too; a gold chain with the word _awesome_ in cursive script hanging from it. She almost rolls her eyes, and thinks with _Andy_ with an old, exasperated fondness.  April shifts her weight and looks down at the floor. “You can come or whatever, I don’t care.  Andy said we had to invite you.”

“Oh.”  So it’s an invitation, Ann thinks, looking down at the card.  That's what she'd expected, though the nicety of an actual paper invitation isn't something she'd have thought either April or Andy would bother with. The lettering is in a cheerful, piney green, with decorative golden scrolling in a border around the block of text.  “Well, I’ll see if I can...”  She looks up, and realizes she’s been talking to empty space - probably for that whole sentence.  April’s already out the door.  “And she’s gone,” Ann murmurs.  She sighs and drops the invitation onto her desk.  Plenty of time to look at it later.  She tucks it away in a drawer, slips off her shoes under her chair, and gets back to work.

* * *

She’s been invited to a holiday party, it turns out, at April and Andy’s house.  An ugly sweater holiday party.  She hasn't been to anything like that since college, not since she could borrow her dad's old sweaters: argyle and striped and cable knit, all way too big for her and smelling like home.

“It’ll be fun!” Leslie says with a smile, leaning in, the soft waves of her hair brushing Ann’s shoulder.  They'd gone out for a drink at Ann's request - she'd felt stifled, stuck at home, and nobody - seriously, _nobody_ \- really wanted to spend time at Leslie's. “Come on, Ann.  Please.  You have to come!”

“I don’t know, Leslie.”  She takes a sip of her wine. When she sets her glass down she sighs and puts an elbow on the bar, leaning her chin on the back of her hand. She's still dating herself - pretty successfully, too, she thinks - but it's been awhile since she's taken a man home. It's a little distracting, several attractive men around her - and even Leslie, who's warm and glowing in the dim lights. Ann shrugs. "I'm just not in a party mood, I guess."

"Oh, Ann. You mysterious, reclusive panther." Leslie grabs her hand and she stares down at Leslie's small fingers, feel where they dig into her palm. "Leslie, I'm... not - " "Just don't think of it as a party!" she says cheerfully. "Think of it as an excuse to hang out with me, and all our awesome friends, and laugh about how badly everyone is dressed." Leslie smiles at her infectiously and Ann can't help but return it, feeling the corner of her mouth lift up. Leslie sees it and bumps her shoulder affectionately. "And besides, you might change your mind. I bet by the time the party rolls around you'll be excited - super excited." "I don't have a sweater to wear, though." "Don't worry about that," Leslie says, waving her concern away. "You don't have to find a sweater; I'll do it. I'll send you a few links, okay? And I'll make a list of sweaters in descending order of awfulness. Just pick one of those! Okay, Ann? You have to come. Okay?"

"I guess so, Leslie. I'll look at the sweaters." Before Leslie can burst into raptures, though, Ann holds up a hand. "But no promises. I'll just look."

By the time she gets home and into her pajamas, there's an over punctuated e-mail with at least thirty links sitting in her inbox. Ann decides to concede to Leslie. It's just easier that way.

* * *

April slouches at the door, arms crossed and hips against the wall. Her hair is piled in a messy bun on the crown of her head, and she's wearing an oversized red sweater. 

Ann points to her stomach. “Your snowman's melting.”

“That's the _point_ , Ann, God.” She rolls her eyes.

“Can I, um.” Ann makes an abortive move forward but April leans up off the wall and steps in front of her. Ann sighs and presses her lips together. “You invited me here, April. Are you going to let me in or not?”

“No,” April says, voice flat and face expressionless. “Your sweater's too ugly.”

“It's an _ugly sweater_ party; I kind of thought that was the point.”

“Hey, babe,” Andy says, walking up beside April and throwing an arm around her shoulder. "Who's here?" April grunts and Andy looks over to Ann standing in the doorway. His face lights up, eyes bright and cheeks round. "Hey, Ann," he says. "Welcome to the party." He steps away from the door to let her in - April, his arm still slung across her shoulders, steps with him. Ann shoots her a quick, smug smile as she walks inside. "Nice sweater," Andy says, shutting the door. April goes off towards the kitchen while Ann shrugs off her coat. "But why does that cat have a beard?"

"It's..." Ann pulls the bottom hem of her sweater a little away from her body. "He's got a hat, see?" she says, trying not to draw too much attention to her breasts. "It's Santa Claws."

''Santa..." The moment of realization on Andy's face is visible, and he grins, nodding a little as Ann shifts under the attention. "I get it, yeah. Santa _Claws_ , because he's a cat."

Ann laughs. "Yeah, Leslie picked it out for me."

Andy nods. "Dude, check mine out." He pats his chest; he's wearing a knit sweater in taupe with a big Christmas tree across most of the front of it. Andy looks proud and says, "It lights up!"

"Oh, that's." Ann frowns and looks up from the sweater to Andy's face. "That seems like it might be a fire hazard."

* * *

April's still standing guard at the door - ostensibly to insure everyone's wearing a sweater ugly enough for admittance - but she lets Donna in, anyway, though the only thing Ann thinks is ugly about her lightweight green sweater is the oversized crystal beetle brooch pinned near her neckline. "It's cashmere," Donna tells her. "I'm not wearing an ugly-ass sweater when I can wear this." Her eyes rake over Ann's outfit and she grins. "No offense."

Tom comes in not long after Donna, his skeevy friend Jean-Ralphio trailing behind him. Tom, like Donna, isn't wearing anything near as tacky as the rest of them. Apparently April was only standing guard for Ann. Ann sighs to herself. _Of course she was._

"Looking good," Donna tells Tom, after looking him over appraisingly. 

Tom grins. "Thanks." He holds his arms up, bent at the elbows, and does a quick spin. "Bought it yesterday for myself. Eighty bucks. Soft. And luxurious." He puts his hand flat on the lower part of his abdomen and rubs in a slow circle. "See? Aren't I fuuuuuzzy?" He looks up at Ann, mouth open in a grin - and God, she thinks, that stupid face of his is still kind of adorable - almost like he's expecting her to agree.

"Hey, let me get a feel, T." Jean-Ralphio leans in close over Tom's shoulder, putting his hand next to Tom's and following its circle. "Damn, son," he says, voice high-pitched and excited. "That is like a pillow that made sweet, sweet love with a kitten. This is their soft, fluffy baby." He stares up at Ann, just like Tom, and they both wait, poised in anticipation. It's not entirely a surprise, she thinks in retrospect, that when she and Tom had been dating Jean-Ralphio had asked for a threesome. She'd mostly thought he'd been joking at the time.

Donna snorts to herself and Ann rolls her eyes. "I'm not going to rub your stomach, Tom." 

His face falls. "But Ann."

"No. Oh look," she says, "it's Chris and Champion."

She walks off, Tom looking downcast behind her. Jean-Ralphio gives his shoulder a friendly pat then moves over to stand beside Donna. She raises an eyebrow at him but that only seems to encourage him. 

"We've been fighting this for a long time," he says, pulling something out of his pocket. He licks his lips and nods. "I think it's time to let it happen." He raises something up over their heads - it's mistletoe and as soon as Donna realizes this, she grabs a thick handful of his outrageous hair and tugs, pulling his head back. His neck is exposed, long and pale, and he swallows reflexively. "Yeah," he says, "I like a woman who can take charge. Let's - " Donna pulls harder and he squeals a little in pain. "Ahh!" He drops the mistletoe and goes for Donna's wrist, but at the noise she makes he drops his arms and drops the swagger. "You're going to pull my scalp off," he says, half-afraid. "I can't lose my hair. Please let me keep my hair."

"Were you about to kiss me?" Donna asks, leaning in closer. "Without my _permission_?"

"I was - " Donna's grip tightens again and Jean-Ralphio swallows. She eases off a little to let him straighten his head. He meets her eyes and gives her a weak smile. "Miss D, I _respect_ you. I only want to _love_ you, girl."

He doesn't get his kiss, but Donna does let him go after a surprisingly competent rendition of Lionel Ritchie's "All Night Long." For Jean-Ralphio, that probably constitutes a success.

* * *

"Nice sweater, Wyatt," Donna says. There's a smirk in her voice and Ann looks over to see Ben and Leslie coming inside.

"Thanks," he says with a half-grin, smoothing it down over the top of his khakis. "It's Santa _Claws_." He starts to curl his hands to mime a cat's but seems to think better of it. He coughs. "But... I didn't choose it."

"Leslie picked it out," Ann supplies, looking down at her own sweater. Which has the same cat in a white beard and hat that's on _Ben's_ sweater.

He blinks a few times and then meets her eyes. "Oh, um. Yeah," he says. Ann smiles awkwardly.

* * *

Even Ron shows up in a sweater, though his is significantly less loud than Andy's or even Leslie's, which has a bunch of elves in a human pyramid with a little elf at the bottom holding them up so it looked like a tree. Ron's was just a white and green patterned number, with a line of reindeer, which Ann supposed was his concession to Christmas.

Jerry, though, took the cake.

"Here," April says abruptly, as the party's starting to wind down. She slaps what looks like a winner's ribbon made of construction paper onto Jerry's chest. The sweater he's wearing is striped in different shades of orange and brown, with what was probably meant to be a pattern of triangles interspersed with the stripes. It also has little orange puffballs sewed onto the sweater. It is, Ann thinks, the most hideous thing she has seen in her _life_.

"Oh, thanks, April," Jerry says, smiling. He peers down at the ribbon. "What is it?"

"It's for you, Jerry," she says, deadpan, patting him on the arm. "You win. Your sweater was the ugliest of all."

"I win? Oh, gosh, thanks guys." He beams and Ann has to laugh, happy that something as simple as an ugly sweater award could make the guy so pleased.

"See?" Leslie says, coming up to her. "Aren't you glad you came? I told you it'd be fun." 

Ann nods, looking around. Ron is standing with a glass of scotch, his moustache twitching in what she can only assume is displeasure. Chris is - not crying, _thank goodness_ \- rubbing Champion's belly while Ben and Tom talk near him. Andy and April hung up Jean-Ralphio's mistletoe and are using it as an excuse to make out. Ann laughs. "Yeah, Leslie," she says, giving her friend a quick, impulsive hug, "you were right. It was fun." She looks down at what she's wearing. "You won't be offended if I burn this, though, will you?"

"Oh, no," Leslie tells her, shaking her head. "It's pretty terrible."

She looks over to Ben, then back to Ann, and there's something in her eyes - something animated, mischievous. 

Regardless of what she said to Leslie, Ann probably won't burn the sweater. It _is_ terrible; maybe if it was just a cat, or the design wasn't so sloppy, there might be something redeemable. She already has Leslie's Christmas gift, but there's always room for expansion or improvement. And Ben and Leslie would look so cute if _their_ sweaters matched.

She bundles up, and while everyone else is still chatting she steps outside. There's a gentle snow coming down and Ann smiles, tilting her head up so the flakes fall in a crips, icy burn across her cheeks. "Hey," she calls, "everyone! Come out here."

There's a shuffling and a murmuring and soon everyone else is outside, too.

"Hey!" Andy says, "it's snowing." He holds his hands up above his head, cupped, and lets a little of the snow gather there. He brings his hands down and shoves his face into them. "Tastes weird," he tells April, standing beside him. "And now my face is like super cold." It's cold, and maybe not the most beautiful night, but as they stand out there together on the lawn, none of that really seems to matter. "Okay," April says, huddling closer to Andy. "You're all out of our house; party's over. Now get off our lawn." Everyone gets their stuff, and starts piling into their cars. A refrain of _all night long_ drifts out of Donna's back seat and Jerry's still wearing his award proudly, stuck to his chest as he climbs into his car. Ann smiles as she gets into her car. There's a familiar, tinkly song on the radio - something classic, something they always play around the holidays. Ann turns the radio up and quietly sings along.


End file.
